


The Nightshirt

by listen_to



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, College AU, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt and comfort, Pre-Relationship, Sad Fluff, caramel with a grain of salt, roommate bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listen_to/pseuds/listen_to
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke through herself in her desk chair and swirled around. There! Snoopy’s nose peaked out from under her roommate’s pillow. What the fuck? Clarke stomped over to the bed in the other half of the dorm and snatched the shirt out of foreign territory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightshirt

**Author's Note:**

> I’m actually writing two other stories - one other for Clexa and one for Fleurmione - and this is what came out instead.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

Clarke kicked against the cupboard door and ruffled through her hair. All she wanted was to shower off the stench of the three hour turned into nine hour bus ride and break down on her bed. Her toilet bag was still ready to go and there were clean pyjama pants in her cupboard. She needed only a slightly clean shirt to sleep in. Clarke had to spent the last hour rummaging through her duffle bag and every shelf of her cupboard. In no universe, Clarke would wear the shirt that was buried in the duffle bag. Harper had some explaining to do on why it featured a large brown stain with a malty aroma since last night. All the other shirts Clarke had left behind were stuffed in her laundry bag. She should’ve done her laundry before she had left for the excursion.

Wait. Where was the long-sleeve shirt with Snoopy printed on the front? She had been wearing it before leaving. That was the only one that didn’t screamed to be washed. Clarke tossed through her pillows and covers. Nothing. Not even the tiniest thread of her only wearable night shirt was in sight. Sleeping naked or in her underwear was not an option. The winter in Polis had a special bite at night.

Where was Snoopy?

Clarke through herself in her desk chair and swirled around. There! Snoopy’s nose peaked out from under her roommate’s pillow. What the fuck? Clarke stomped over to the bed in the other half of the dorm and snatched the shirt out of foreign territory. It was the third time that Clarke found an item of her clothes in Lexa’s half of the room but the first time in the bed. Lexa obviously didn’t sleep in it. Her pyjamas lay neatly folded on top of the perfectly made bed. What the kind of kink was that? Clarke shuddered. Lexa had no business having Clarke’s garment in her bed for any reason at all.

Lexa and Clarke. They were on friendly terms since the university administration had made them roommates by lot at the beginning of the semester. They only moved in together in this dorm at the beginning of this semester because Lexa’s old roommate graduated. Lexa was a very private person. They didn’t have much opportunity to bond, much to Clarke displeasure. They didn’t have a common circle of friends except maybe Octavia, who played with Lexa in the same soccer team. Also, they had no opportunity to be study buddies as Clare was an Art Mayor and Lexa trained to be a math and Sports teacher.

Friendly terms or not, that didn’t allow Lexa to live out any kinky stuff with Clarke’s belongings. Not without her knowing. Not without her.

Clarke shook her head. This was not the way her train of thought should be going. Maybe Clarke was just overwrought from the never-ending bus ride. Maybe she should just sleep it off before jumping to final conclusions or seeking a confrontation with her roommate.

The look of the dorm door clicked open. Clarke heard two voices.

„Lexa!“

Lexa stopped in her tracks and frowned at Clarke standing in her side of the room. Then she saw the shirt in Clarke’s hand. Lexa dropped the bag she was holding. Clarke observed the other girl’s reaction. Lexa’s eyes darted up to the ceiling, she swallowed hard, led out a deep breath and locked eyes with Clarke again. Her pulse point started to throb. It almost seemed to pop. It looked like embarrassment combined with hurt rather than shame and guilt. That was a pitiful sight. Any accusation or demands for the truth died in Clarke’s throat.

Suddenly, she was engulfed in an embrace. Only than Clarke realised, who had entered the dorm with her roommate. Octavia. Slowly, Clarke registered all the other details about the two. Lexa and Octavia both had damp hair and had their sport bags with them. Of course, it was Friday evening. They had been training together.

„You are back! What happened to that bus? You were supposed back around noon. We were starting to get worried, especially Raven.“ Octavia tightened her arms around Clarke. „Next time you will text the moment you touch Polis soil again.“

Clarke felt a pang of guilt in her gut.

„Sorry, my battery died.“

Octavia swatted her on the shoulder and held her at arms length. Over the other girl’s shoulder, Clarke saw how Lexa chewed her lips as she followed the exchange. At the mentioning of the bus, she seemed to deflate a little bit. What was that about?

Octavia frowned the shirt Clarke was still holding.

„You can’t be serious. You want to go to bed without properly saying hello to your best friends.“ Octavia took the Snoopy shirt out of Clarke’s hands and threw it on her bed. Lexa’s gaze followed its way through the air and than dropped to the ground. Octavia continued: „You just came back from an excursion that lasted weeks…“

Clarke sighed.

„Five days, O.“

Octavia waved a finger to shush her.

„…that lasted weeks into foreign parts of this country in unsafe means of transport…“

Clarke rolled her eyes. Still she didn’t miss the way Lexa’s jaw clenched at the mentioning of means of transport.

„Octavia, I went to see the Guggenheim and the MoMA in New York, not some post-apocalyptic wilderness. Although some video installations at the MoMA might suggested otherwise.“

Octavia was folding her arms before her chest. She managed to appear seven feet tall.

„…and you think you can just go to bed without telling Raven and me all about your trip. Raven will be waiting for us at the Dropship ready to order your welcome-home-drink as soon as I text her.“

Octavia gave Clarke a pleading look. Clarke’s resistance crumbled. She shrugged, let her head fall and waved at her to lead the way. Octavia cheered and turned around to Lexa.

„Lexa, do you want to come, too?“

Octavia’s impromptu extension of the invitation to her roommate made Clarke’s stomach turn. Any other day Lexa would have been more than welcome. Any other day, the two of them didn’t have a crisis talk hoovering in the background. Clarke raised an eyebrow at her behind Octavia’s back. Lexa looked like Bambi who just got kicked. It made Clarke feel sorry for Lexa but she wasn’t ready to deal with her. Cooling off would do them good before they held their talk.

„No, I have to…“ Lexa waved a hand in the direction of her desk.

„Suit yourself, Commander.“ Octaiva said and turned back to Clarke. „So tell me, Clarke. Have you picked up with Niyhla where you left of before the summer break?“

Lexa’s jaw muscles worked hard.

„There is nothing to tell about Niylah“, Clarke said.

Octavia chuckled and went outside. Lexa grabbed Clarke’s hand before she left.

„I just wanted to sleep.“

Clarke grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. She followed Octavia out of the room and through a last look over her shoulder. Lexa was watching her leave with sad eyes. Clarke made the ‚I’m watching you‘ gesture before she shut the door behind her.

Lexa wasn’t off the hook.

###

Clarke returned to her dorm after one hour and two beers. That was enough for that day. ‚I just wanted to sleep.‘ Lexa’s words had echoed the whole time in her mind while chatting with Raven and Octavia about her adventures in New York. 

What would she find behind the dorm door? Clarke slipped her key card in the card reader and went inside.

With a straight back, Lexa sat on the edge of her bed. She had already changed for the night and had replaced her contacts with her glasses. Her hands were folded in her lap, resting on her diary — a black medium sized calendar with one page per day. It featured a green pen loop without a pen. Lexa moved her hands to hold the book in both hands. Clarke was able to make out the cover. Pasted on the front was a picture of a single Red Wood tree sticking out of a sea of leaves. Clarke’s eyebrows knitted together. This wasn't Lexa's current diary. That one had picture of a starry night sky on the cover and featured a blue loop holding a slim fountain pen dedicated to write only in the diary. Clarke concentrated on the black book in Lexa's hands. In the first third of the calendar, the pages were pressed together as if they had never been separated. Was this Lexa's first diary? The other two thirds looked more used. The pages sported ink spots and dog ears. A page marker stuck somewhere in the middle. Additional pages and newspaper clippings were added.

Lexa opened the book and leafed to what seemed to be the first entry and held it out for Clarke to take. Clarke walked cross the room and accepted the offering. A clipping from _The Polis University Observer_ lay there unfolded. On one half it was pasted into a day in May last year. Clarke scanned the headline of the article as well as the five images. Her breath hitched. She didn't need to read the text. She remembered the story vividly. It was the backdrop of the largest tragedy in her life second to her father’s death. A truck had t-boned a Greyhound bus. Forty-nine students from Polis University had been on board. They were leaving for spring break. Everyone referred to the passengers as The 49. Five had died on location, twelve more had died of their injuries later in the hospital. No-one came out of the bus unharmed.

The head shot of a girl with curly dark hair, a bright smile, and large sparkling eyes caught Clarke’s attention. She looked like someone Clarke wanted to be friends with. She also looked familiar. Was it the same girl that was in many of Lexa’s photos on Instagram? The girl Clarke suspected to be Lexa's ex?Lexa never talked about her or any other romantic endeavours. The girl had vanished from the timeline and Lexa had stopped posting personal impressions except for some random photos of the university soccer team now and then. Was it around the time that Lexa had started to write her diary?

Clarke peaked behind the loose flap of the clipping. On the opposite page was a photograph of Lexa and the girl. They where sitting between cushions in window of the campus cafe. Both were reading and the girl hugged Lexa from behind. So the girl from Lexa's Instagram was her ex.

Yes, Clarke had Facebook stalked her roommate. Sue her! Everyone was doing that with persons they found attractive. No big deal and so not the point.

How should Clarke start a conversation about something like that? The accident happened one and a half year ago and the effects still felt like a raw flesh wound that was best not touched. It felt like there was one degree of separation at most between a 49er and everyone else at PolisU. Everyone knew someone personally or know someone who knew someone. Everyone was connected by friendship, family bonds or just by being a student at the same college; or it was someone you worked with on an assignment, someone who sat next to you in a lecture, a roommate, or a random person who you made out with at a party. For Clarke, there was only one step of separation and it was close to home, too close to home. Apparently, it was the same for Lexa.

Clarke sat beside Lexa on the edge of the bed.

On the bottom of the page with the picture, was an ampersand inked in just were the page number was normally placed. Many students had chosen the little logogram as a symbol to mark a close relationship to a 49er and to express the hope for a brighter future after this stroke of fate.

Clarke let her finger glide over the ampersand. She lifted her foot, pushed down her sock, and presented Lexa with a small tattoo on her ankle. The character was designed with brush script in Clarke’s own handwriting. Lexa took a peak.

“My person on that bus was Raven. That’s how she got the brace.”

Lexa’s head shot up.

“Raven was there, too? I don’t remember seeing her.“ Lexa’s gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. „Than again, my focus was on someone else.”

Lexa starred at the picture of Costia and herself. Clarke swallowed. Lexa couldn’t mean that. Not her, too. But how was she supposed to know? Only the names of the dead victims were ever published in the obituary in the University paper.

“Youwereonthatbus?”

Clarke’s voice cords were in a knot. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“You are one of The 49?”

Lexa nodded. She starred again at her hands. Clarke scooted across the bed and leaned against the wall. She patted the spot on her left. Lexa followed and settled beside her.

„Costia and I… we wanted to visit her family during reading week. I got away with a ridiculous small amount of minor cuts and bruises.“ Lexa let out a small humourless laugh. She blinked a few times. „Costia sat at a window and therefore closer to the spot where the truck hit the bus.“ She took of her glasses and rubbed her eyes. „Her injuries… There was much blood… I tried to stop the bleeding until the ambulances arrived.“ Lexa grabbed her pillow. „She died in the hospital.“She hugged it to her chest, and buried her nose in it.

Clarke didn’t press Lexa to go further into details. She didn’t need details. She had done her own share of lurking in hospital corridors and relative rooms, biting her nails and holding hands with Octavia while waiting to get updates on Raven’s surgery from exhausted nurses and doctors.

She placed a hand on Lexa’s thigh with the palm up. After a moment Lexa loosened the grip around the pillow and put one hand on Clarke’s. They interlaced their fingers and sat in silence for a few minutes.

Clarke’s gaze fell on Snoopy. She frowned.

“How does all this relate to my shirt in your bed?”

Lexa tried to withdraw her hand but Clarke squeezed it and held on.

„After I returned to campus, I shared a room with my cousin Anya. She helped me a lot to get through every day life. I don’t know what I would have done without her.“ Lexa’s voice was levelled, betrayed no emotions, like always with a little rasp in the back of her throat. „Her motto is: Get knocked down, get back up.“ Clarke didn’t let the sound of Lexa’s voice fool her. She just needed to look Lexa in the eyes to know that there was a storm inside. „That does sharpen your self discipline during the day but it doesn’t work when your guards are down while you are asleep.“

Lexa leaned over to her night stand and retrieved a bottle with some pills. It wasn’t cracked open. Clarke got a glimpse of the label to know that it was the same drug that helped Raven sleep at first.

„You have nightmares“, Clarke finally said.

Lexa nodded.

„This is something to help me sleep. For emergencies“ She blushed. „I haven’t needed it since we moved in here together.“

Clarke had a hunch where this conversation was heading but she wanted to hear Lexa say it.

„But why my shirt?“

Lexa swallowed.

“You remind me a bit of her, you know. You both have the same lust for life and devil may care attitude. She also had a creative streak. She was a drama mayor.“ Clarke never would have thought that this was something that Lexa found attractive, something that the cool headed future math and sports teacher would actually seek in a partner. Well, mathematics was also the backbone of music, wasn’t it? Lexa added: „The shirt. It smells like you. It helps me to get rest… when you are not here.”

This was so inappropriate, but Clarke felt tickled by that thought. The image of Lexa as Linus van Pelt sprang to her mind.

„So every time when I have sleepover with Raven and Octavia, or I’m on excursion, you use something of mine as comforter or security blanket.“

Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Lexa glared at her.

„You are mocking me.“

„No. I’m sorry. I just pictured you as…“ This was probably not the best moment to compare Lexa to a Peanut character to her face. „Never mind.“Clarke cleared her throat. „You should have said something. Anything.“

Lexa set her jaw.

„That would’ve been a sign of weakness.“

Of course, the big bad commander of the University’s women soccer team was to proud to ask for such a thing as a hug. _Damn you, Anya._ No, that was probably not fair to her. Anya was intense. Clarke had only briefly met the woman when she had helped Lexa moving her stuff in this very dorm. Clarke believed that Anya cared deeply for her cousin. She literally gave Clarke The Talk before leaving Lexa behind. Clarke just couldn’t conjure up the image of Anya hugging someone or being otherwise affectionate.

„Asking for help in time of need is not a sign of weakness. ‚Get knocked down, get back up‘ is a good motto for surviving. Life is more than just surviving.“

Lexa glared at her. She bit her lip.

“Maybe you are right.” After a pause she added: “I didn’t want to freak you out. This is so embarrassing.“

Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand one last time.

„There is nothing you need to be embarrassed about.“

Lexa nodded again. Clarke knew not to expect a more wordy answer from the taciturn girl and stood up from the bed. She gathered her toothbrush out of her half unpacked duffle bag and searched for something to wear for sleeping. She internally face palmed as she remembered what circumstance started the heart to heart with Lexa.

„Can I borrow one of your shirts for the night? I forgot to do my laundry before I left.”

Lexa gave her a small smug smile. This is of course something that would never happen to Miss Self Discipline. She got up, went over to her drawer, and came back with a large and soft green shirt. Clarke thanked her and went to search for her pyjama pants. When she looked up, she found Lexa sitting on the edge of her bed again in the same position as before, lost in her own thoughts.

Clarke went into their bathroom. She didn’t bother to close the bathroom door while she went through her evening rituals. She felt that Lexa still held back something and didn’t want to break the connection by leaving her alone. Clarke took tooth brush and tooth paste to perform this last personal hygiene chore. In the main room, Lexa rustled with her covers. Clark started to brush. The rustling didn’t stop. Clarke spit out the foam and rinsed her mouth with fresh water. The rustling had stopped.

Clarke came back into the main room while pulling the green shirt over her head.

“Why did Professor Kane hire a bus to send you to New York?”

Lexa’s voice was almost inaudible. Was there a small wavering? Clarke pulled the shirt down the last inches and looked at Lexa. Was this whole sleeping with her shirt business really just about comfort? Lexa’s lip quivered. She looked at Clarke wide-eyed. Without her usual black eyeliner, she looked younger and more vulnerable.

„Kane is a pragmatic. And he came to the university after the accident happened. He didn’t know any better.“

Lexa looked at the ceiling and blinked a few times. Had she been worried about Clarke’s safety? Maybe this was also about Clarke being Clarke, not Clarke being a reminder of somebody else. A small seed of hope sprouted in Clarke’s chest.

She switched off the ceiling light and went over to her bed. Her bed. She had actually missed it while she was in New York.

Behind her, she heard the cracking of a pill bottle and some rummaging. Lexa was probably in search of the water bottle she kept always within reach. No, this was not going to happen. Lexa would not get away again without asking for help. Clarke wasn’t sure if what she was about to do was a good idea, but she head to try. She stood up and walked over to Lexa’s bed. She took the pill bottle out of Lexa’s hands, screwed it shut, and threw it back into the drawer.

Lexa frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Clarke huffed.

“Well, what are you doing?”

Was Lexa blushing. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the reading lamp.

“This was a very stirring conversation we just had. It is very unlikely that I will find rest tonight.“

„True. But we also established tonight that you find a peaceful sleep with something within reach that smells like me. I smell like me more than anything else in the world.” ‚Smooth, Clarke‘, she chided herself. She waved a hand. „Move over.“

Lexa pulled the cover under her chin.

„This is strangely blurring the boundaries“, Lexa said.

Clarke let out a small laugh.

„You using my shirt as a security blanket is strangely blurring the boundaries, Linus.“ Lexa grunted at the new nick name. Clarke plucked up the corner of the cover and gave a slight jerk. „Move over.“

Lexa sighed and relaxed her grip on the duvet. She even held up the cover to welcome Clarke between the sheets.

“You have irritating single-mindedness about you. That is very much unlike Costia.”

Clarke smiled as she settled down on her back beside her bedfellow without touching her too much. That wasn’t easy. This was a very slim bed.

“Yeah, that is part of my charm and you like it.”

There was a little squeak – so hard rolled Lexa her eyes. She squirmed a little. A cold foot touched Clarke’s shin and withdrew right away. A moment later, the foot came back again, resting gently on top of Clarke’s foot, wriggling with the toes as if to say hello. Clarke nudged gently back. Lexa scooted a little closer until they were touching on their full body length. Clarke rolled on her side, facing Lexa who also rolled over, fitting herself into the curve of Clarke’s body. Clarke waited a moment before she let her hand rest on Lexa’s waist. After a while, one of Lexa’s hands rested on top of it.

Clarke smiled while she glided over into sleep. Boundary blurring indeed. But hey, they took this challenge, they would sort out the rest in time. They could start over breakfast tomorrow morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Clarke calling Lexa 'Linus', I posted an illustration of Clarke and Lexa as Peanut characters on my tumblr. You can find it [here](https://cliffhangerslog.tumblr.com/post/147645505982/i-have-a-plot-bunny-hopping-around-where-clarke).


End file.
